SEALed With a Kiss: Even a Hero Needs Help Sometimes... (36 page)

"Come on, old fellow. You can do it. One step at a time. You can do it."

You can do it.
There was another voice speaking to him in his head, saying the same thing he was saying to the dog.

Corey. It had happened so many times that Jax no longer questioned how or why he sometimes heard his dead friend talking to him. Though he knew if he told anyone they would question his sanity, he had learned when the voice spoke to pay attention. Usually it was just a word, or a short sentence:
Stop. Look behind you.
The meaning was usually crystal clear in context. But what did Corey mean now?

Do what? What can I do?

Keep Tyler with you.

I can't keep Tyler. I don't have any way to care for him. He has to go to his grandmother.

You can do it.

He wanted to. God knows, he wanted to. From the very beginning he had dreaded the moment of turning Tyler over to Lauren, even before he knew she drank, but until now he hadn't acknowledged how troubled he was. Until he came to North Carolina, no, until he came to
Pickett's
house, the distance between him and Tyler had seemed, not desirable, but somehow normal.

The logistics would be a nightmare to work out, what with his erratic schedule and frequent absences, but to have Tyler right there to kiss good-night, to teach to swim and play baseball— hell yeah, he wanted it. Jax dragged air past the constriction in his throat. The kid needed a lot of work on his catch.

But Tyler was so little. He needed somebody twenty-four/seven. Maybe when he was older ... uh-uh. Tyler didn't want to live with Lauren.

You can do it

The big black-and-tan animal was almost within the reach of Jax's fingers now. With aching caution, yellow eyes never leaving Jax, he slid his gray muzzle under Jax's outstretched fingers. Keeping all his movements slow and smooth, Jax stroked Hobo Joe's head, fondled his ears, and as he crept closer, ran a hand across his back and down his flank. At last, he settled onto his haunches, laid his head on Jax's knee, and heaved a huge sigh.

Pickett finished entering her case notes, and hit Save, just as the screen door banged. She heard the quick spat of Tyler's sneakers on the heart pine of the entry, accompanied by the dogs' clicking toenails. She just had time to swivel the desk chair before a compact little body flung itself against her lap.

"Pickett, Pickett,
Pickett!"

"What, what,
what?"
Pickett helped him scramble onto her lap, straddling her knees. She gazed into the shining gray eyes and felt the connection zoom straight into her heart. She had an affectionate nature. She loved all the children she worked with, but not like this. The love she felt for this child filled her entire chest with warm, soft pressure, then overflowed into her throat and filled her eyes. Despite all the ways she had filled it up her life had been empty at the core before he came along. She would keep him forever if she could.

"We're going to the fireworks!"

"Not today. Not for a couple of days."

"Tomorrow?" They'd had this conversation every day since Jax bought tickets to watch the fireworks from the pier. Tyler anticipated the fireworks display with excitement usually reserved for Christmas. Pickett had even made him a little calendar so he could mark off the days. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow were the only time constructs he could really grasp, though.

"No, sweetie, not tomorrow either. But when the day comes, we will go."

"Promise?" He bounced on her knees for emphasis.

She kissed the top of his head. "I promise, promise, promise!"

With the lightning shift of attention only children are capable of, he pushed himself off her lap in a sort of backwards leapfrog. "Gotta go!" He stuck the landing as well as any gymnast and raced for the bathroom.

Pickett missed his weight across her thighs even as she admired his superb coordination. Daily swimming lessons were paying off in physical confidence. It was like watching the real child emerge from a brittle shell.

He'd never talked about his mother again since that first morning, however. She'd waited for him to bring the subject up, but he never had. He didn't act like a troubled child, but Pickett knew he still had feelings that would have to be dealt with someday. Pickett heard Jax's footsteps on the porch and went into the hall to greet him, resolved to ask if Tyler ever talked about his mother to him.

Through the screen she saw Jax bend down to give Hobo Joe a slap of rough affection. Hobo Joe gave a long-tongued doggy-laugh and looked at Jax with shining eyes. So, the two roamers had found each other, had they?

A wise little smile played around Pickett's lips when Jax, carrying a hot-pink Victoria's Secret bag, opened the screen door, Hobo Joe at his heels.

"Looks like you've acquired both some lingerie and a dog."

"The lingerie's for you." Jax handed her the bag while pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I can't have a dog, though. I haven't figured out how I'm going to care for my kid."

The smile took on a hint of sadness, but Pickett only raised her eyebrows in reply.

"Anyway," Jax went on, "he wants to come in the house. Can he come in?"

"Sure. He's always been allowed to come in the house. He just never wanted to before."

"Are you saying he only wants to come in because I'm in?"

Pickett's slender shoulders moved as if to say "what do
you
think?"

Jax scrubbed his fists across his hairline. "Damn. Come on, you big doofus. I've got to make a phone call."

Jax flipped his cell phone open, closed it, and flipped it open again. He frowned at Hobo Joe stretched at his feet, closed the phone and returned to the kitchen, Hobo at his heels.

Pickett was rinsing snow peas for a stir fry with rice noodles, a dish that compromised between her dietary restrictions, a four-year-old's whims, and an active man's appetite. Though her kitchen was a far cry from the elegant waterfront restaurant Jax had taken her to in Wilmington, she was just as glad to be at home tonight. Talking about the fireworks with Tyler had reminded her he and Jax would both be gone all too soon.

She shook the excess water from the colander and dumped the green pods onto a paper towel. Selecting a red bell pepper and a paring knife, she cored the vegetable, lifted out the little white seeds, then began to cut it into strips.

"Pickett, can Tyler and I stay here?"

Stay here? He was talking about
staying?
Pickett's mind scrambled to contain the hope that wanted to burst free within her heart.

"I'm not sure what you're asking," she said cautiously. "You and Tyler
are
staying here."

"Just until I take him back to his grandmother's. But that's the thing, he doesn't want to go to his grandmother's and I don't want him to go. So I'm asking, can we stay here until I figure out something?"

Pickett sneaked a look at Jax under her lashes. "Has something happened to change your mind?"

"Not one thing—a lot of things. I used to think anybody would do a better job with Tyler than me. When Danielle was alive and he was a baby, maybe that was true. I'm not so sure now. I've tried to deny it, but since her drunken phone call, I've gotta tell you, Lauren's drinking has me worried." Jax snagged a stool and dragged it to where Pickett was working.

"And I'm not willing," he went on, "to see him once every few months at best. I let Danielle set the terms for how much I would see Tyler. She couldn't handle it that I would make plans to come and have to break them, but call out of the blue and say I had free time." He leaned more than sat on a kitchen stool, legs stretched straight. "Now that I know all I've missed, I don't want to miss any more than I have to."

Pickett's hands stopped in mid-slice. Her mind ran ahead of what he was saying. "You mean you're going to leave the SEALs?" Her hope, so long denied, was almost painful. "You'll look for another job?"

"No." Jax waved an impatient hand. "Being a SEAL is who I am. It's what I do. But there's got to be a way to have Tyler with me when I'm in the country."

Disappointment, bitter and black, cold as day-old coffee, filled her mouth. If she could, she would shake herself.

She had known, from the start, anything they had would be temporary, and any love, one-sided. She had known she'd probably fall in love with him anyway, and God help her, she had. But she had always known how it was going to turn out.

Nevertheless, just for a moment there, she had allowed herself to believe he might decide to leave the Navy. To hope he wanted to stay. Forever.

"You don't approve?" Jax cut into her thoughts.

"What makes you think that?"

Jax smiled crookedly. "You have a face that telegraphs every thought that goes through your busy, busy mind."

Pickett focused on making absolutely perfect slices of pepper while she schooled her features into what she hoped was a neutral expression. "I don't have a right to approve or disapprove."

"That never stopped you from having an opinion before," Jax drawled dryly.

Pickett laughed ruefully, and hoped the laugh didn't sound as forced as it felt. "It's true I have an opinion about practically everything. But I'm not the one who will have to live with the results of whatever you decide."